


Lionheart

by Kalopsia



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 2005 doctor who, Johnlock - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, Violence, Violent, Wholock, amy/rory - Freeform, doctor who - Freeform, kalopsia, lionheart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalopsia/pseuds/Kalopsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is broken. Amy has been in prison for three years, divorced from Rory, and has nothing left to live for. Sherlock is still thought dead, still wandering, still trying to defeat the one enemy almost as smart as him. </p>
<p>Enter the Doctor, an ancient man who has been recruited by an old ally for a project so desperate that even he may not be able to pull it off. </p>
<p>Lionheart: a person of exceptional courage and bravery. </p>
<p>Which is exactly what they are all going to need to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That We Won't Run

**Author's Note:**

> HI. PLEASE COMMENT. I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER.  
> I'm attempting to upload a new chapter every Wednesday, but I'm not sure how that's going to work out.  
> Enjoy :)

The Doctor sat across from Amy Pond, knowing that she’d been in this place for far too long. Knowing there were six people behind that one-way looking glass, knowing they were all analyzing their every word.   
  
“I’m not scared,” Amy said. “So stop thinking I am.”   
  
His eyes flickered to the finger on her left hand, where there was a tan line from the ring that was no longer there. She caught his gaze and moved her hand to her lap. His eyes flickered up to meet hers. It had been too long since they had last spoke, and now they spoke not as friends, but as acquaintances.   
  
“I never thought you were scared.”  
  
He held her icy gaze and knew she had caught the lie.   
  
“All right then, _Doctor,_ ” Amy said, leaning forward and resting her head on her hands. “Tell me why they’ve kept me locked in here for so long.”   
  
Her hair had grown longer, falling down her back in long waves, longer than it usually was. She didn’t have the option to have it cut, apparently. He wondered how they treated her, here. Better than he had, most likely.   
  
“They need you,” The Doctor said finally. “They need you, they need Rory. They need me. Working separately for the same thing.”   
  
“Go on.”   
  
“There is a man,” The Doctor continued. “He is a genius. Absolutely brilliant, almost as good as me. Actually, not at all. That’s where I’m needed.”   
  
He paused. Amy waited.  
  
“This man has a friend, who is broken beyond repair.  But why is he broken? They say he’s his only friend. Because this man- this brilliant, brilliant man- is dead. Which is where Rory comes in.”   
  
Amy raised her eyebrows, but didn’t speak.  
  
“This man is dead in the eyes of all who knew him. He is still, however, alive. And walking the streets of the world. Trying to defeat a man who may be even more brilliant than him.”  
  
The Doctor’s eyes flickered towards the one-way glass. Saw his reflection. Caught a glimpse of how ancient he really was.    
  
He swallowed.   
  
“And that’s where you come in.”   
  
“What, exactly, do they want from _me_ ?”   
  
They stared at each other. Amy’s eyes widened fractionally.   
  
“ _Oh,_ ” Amy breathed. “Oh, okay. Yeah. Tell them I’m in.”    
  
“Amy, I don’t think you understand, this man is going to _end_ you. He will bring to you the brink of life, physically, emotionally, mentally. He has the capability to _destroy_ everything that makes you, _you_ , and there is not a _thing_ anybody is going to be able to do about it. It’s up to you. He will _break_ you, Amy.”   
  
Amy narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, mere inches away from the Doctor. She spoke.   
  
“He can try.”


	2. Winter Night Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy 'Mia Scott' and Moriarty meet for an interview. 
> 
> And suddenly she might herself as an assistant the world's only consulting criminal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, I've only just realized I'm absolute crap at characterizing Moriarty. So, I'm sorry if he's incredibly out of character :(

_“Remember your alias, Amy. Mia Scott, on internship for-”  
_   
“I _know_ ,” Amy hissed into her earpiece as she jogged across the London street, lifting a hand to a car that stopped to wait. It was her first time allowed in the free air in over two years, but the little city things kept rushing back anyway. It felt nice. “Internship for Namiro. Valedictorian at Cambridge University, with a major in neurological sciences. I got it.”   
_  
“He’ll dig every detail out of you, Amelia, whether or not you realize it. We need to you to become Mia Scott. We’ve put too much into this for it not to work.”_  
  
“It’s Amy, not Amelia. Amelia’s too fairytale,” The redhead grumbled. “Tell me again why the Doctor gets Sherlock?”   
_  
“Mr. Holmes is more likely to trust someone intelligent. And while you aren’t stupid, you certainly aren’t a genius. The Doctor is, and we need every ounce of trust Sherlock will give us. ”   
_   
While Amy didn’t like being called unintelligent, she knew it was true, more or less.   
  
“So you set Rory up with John, because of obvious reasons. And I get Jim because...?”   
_  
“Moriarty is like Sherlock, to an extent. He doesn’t trust dull people, but he will be more willing to play along until he gets a better hold on who you are, if he doesn’t already know.”  
_   
“Right. So, McTern’s café, right? Bit small for this kind of thing, isn’t it?  
  
 **-o-**   
  
Amy scrolled through the iPhone they had given her. No apps had been downloaded, there were several fake contacts in the list, and her background was of her with two girls that had been taken that morning. _Jessica and Molly_ , if she were asked. _Best friends since high school._  
  
A steaming latte sat in front of her, smelling of hazelnut. Nobody sat across from her yet, but for all she knew they could be watching her every move. They probably were, actually. But Amy wasn’t nervous. How bad could this guy be? No more scary than the Doctor, and she had seen _him_ in some pretty terrifying situations.   
  
“Ms. Scott, is it?” A well-dressed man asked. Amy jumped a bit, startled by his sudden appearance.   
  
“Please, call me Mia,” Amy said with a smile, forcing herself to calm down. She stood and extended her hand, which he shook. “Sit, sit. You must be Mr. Moriarty?”   
  
“Yes, I am,” The man said. His face wasn’t moving. Amy shifted.   
  
“We’re here to talk about a possible internship, right?”   
  
“Yes, we are.”   
  
Amy cocked an eyebrow and took a cautious sip of her coffee. Her earpiece was dead in her ear, no comforting words of wisdom coming from their side . Maybe she wasn’t prepared for this, after all.   
  
“So, Mr. Moriarty. What are you offering?”   
  
The man smiled slowly. “I’m looking for an assistant.”   
  
“What kind of assistant?”  
  
“Well, your people have told you about what I specialize in, right?”  
  
Amy swallowed. “No, I’m afraid they haven’t. They told me to be prepared for anything, and I said I was,” She laughed lightly, trying to ease the situation.   
  
Mr. Moriarty leaned forward. She could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath. “I’m a consulting criminal.”   
  
_That’s no more comforting than the sex trade,_ Amy thought, but she knew how to play along. She leaned close to him. “What do you mean, ‘consulting criminal?’”   
  
“I trust your people, Ms. Scott,” Jim said, leaning back in his chair. A waitress came and handed him a glass of champagne. He took a sip, thanked her, and she scuttled off. “Or at least, I’m willing to.”   
  
Amy nodded. “Very well.”   
  
“Do you remember that Sherlock Holmes, from a few months back?”   
  
“The fake genius?” Amy asked, feigning ignorance. “The one who jumped off St. Bart’s?”   
  
“Yes, him. And that was because of me,” Moriarty said, a bit proudly if Amy thought. But he was looking at her, analyzing her. She could tell. The Doctor had looked at her with that same expression many times.   
  
“Was all over the papers, wasn’t it?” Amy said nonchalantly.   
  
“Yes, it was.”  
  
“Good job, then,” Amy said. “The way I remember it, the bloke was getting a bit... full of himself.”

  
“Was a bit too noisy for my liking. Attention to a murder you caused isn’t a good thing.”  
  
“It was Sherlock Holmes’ _suicide,_ though, to everyone else. You needed it. You’re known in the underground, I assume? I bet that’s exactly what you needed. _You’re_ not dull, Mr. Moriarty, you’re a genius.”   
  
Moriarty smiled, seemingly satisfied. She doubt he really was, but it was good enough for now.   
  
“I specialize in murder, to put it bluntly,” He continued, with that same sickening smile glued to his face. “I can do anything a client wishes. However, not too many people want to give their identities to the man in question, ah, _me."_  
  
He took another sip of champagne. Amy twirled the spoon in her coffee. “Go on.”  
  
“That’s where you come in,” Moriarty said. “I need _you_ , to get _them_ , to trust _me_. ”  
  
Amy nodded slowly. “Okay... Do you have any specific clients in question?”  
  
“You need to accept the job, first.”   
  
“Is it being offered?”  
  
Moriarty raised his eyebrow. Amy smiled. “If so, then yes. I accept.” _As if I have a choice._   
  
“Good. You start tomorrow,” He stood up, and waved for the check. The waitress dashed over.   
  
“Oh, I’ll pay,” Amy said quickly, before he could take the money out of his wallet. Moriarty raised his eyebrow, but nodded slowly and put the money away.  
  
She handed the waitress a few clean bills, and the lady disappeared into the kitchen.   
  
“So I’ll see you tomorrow? When, and where?” Amy asked as she put her coat back on.   
  
“I’ll be in touch,” Moriarty replied. He watched her as she buttoned up the coat.   
  
Amy was about to leave, thinking they were done, when Jim spoke up again.   
  
“The thing about Sherlock is that he was boring. Dull. And do you know why?”    
  
Amy shook her head, pausing in buttoning up.

  
“He was on the side of the _angels_ ,” Moriarty said, almost tauntingly. He paused before speaking again. “And I can’t have an _angel_ working... for _me_ .”   
  
_For me,_ Amy noted. _Not with me._  
  
Her brain was whirling at a million miles an hour, trying desperately to think of something appropriate to say. She scrambled for the first thing that she deemed acceptable and blurted it out.   
  
“Please. Side of the angels?” She turned to walk out, but before she left she called over her shoulder, “Where’s the fun in that?”   
  
And with that and a wink, Amy disappeared into the snowy London evening, wondering how the hell she possibly managed to get herself into this situation, and if she would get out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos, and bookmark, and comment :D It'd make my day. (It really does, I'm telling you) :D


	3. The Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know this is about 24 minutes late, and I'm terribly sorry, but today was super busy. Updates might be far and few between, as I'm starting high school in a week, and things are bound to be complicated. I'm still aiming for once a week update xxx 
> 
> I literally sat down at like, eleven forty-five and was like, "CRAP. I NEED TO WRITE THE NEW CHAPTER." And I did. In thirty minutes. NEW RECORD. I hope it doesn't seem as rushed as it is! :o

“So you need your husband murdered?” Amy asked, rolling her eyes at the woman standing next to her, who chuckled into her sleeve. As if Moriarty would bother with such a petty crime. “Yes, well, I’ll see what I can do.”   
  
She hung up the phone, and the woman opposite her, (her name was Carrie), hooted with laughter. “Her _husband_? Murdered? Why would she think he would accept that?”   
  
There were thousands of other people working for Moriarty. Four that did precisely what Amy did, and here they were. In an office building so plain, so normal, nobody would ever assume they specialized in setting up appointments for murders. Though Amy herself was looked fondly upon in Moriarty’s eyes, judging by the fact her number was the one he gave out to potential customers, she never understood why.   
  
But Amy didn’t know what to do, exactly. How to take him down. She thought she did, but she didn’t.  
  
Becoming Mia Scott wasn’t as hard as she’d thought it would be. It was easy to become someone who hadn’t spent the best years of her life chasing aliens across the universe. Easy to become normal.   
  
It was also nice being freed. Free from that awful prison cell, where eyes were on you day and night. Where your only company was your growing insanity. Where everything was monitored. From your actions to your heart rate.   
  
But that was the old times.   
  
This was the now. She had been given a chance, an opportunity, and Amy was determined to succeed.  
  
“Mia, darling,” Carrie said, pressing a button on her phone. “Moriarty’s on line three.”  
  
She picked up the phone. Moriarty’s smooth voice flowed into her ear.   
  
“Stevenson’s garage? Ten minutes?” Amy asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Yeah, I can make it.”  
  
-o-  
  
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” Moriarty hissed into Amy’s ear. “You’re a _lying_ , _filthy_ girl. Probably no more clever than a dog. You’re _normal_. You’re _boring_. Just like all the rest.”  
  
He dug the knife deeper into her neck. Pain exploded and blood spilled. Amy gasped.   
  
“ _One_. _Reason_.”  
  
Amy struggled to think of an answer. She couldn’t. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t talk, and she couldn’t think.   
  
Moriarty yanked the Bluetooth out of her ear. “Communicating with them? I see. It’s a shame they aren’t going to know where you are, _Amelia_. ”   
  
Amy squirmed, which only caused the knife to dig deeper. She gasped again.   
  
Moriarty crushed the device with his shoe.   
  
“Think of it this way,” He whispered in her ear. “I never do the dirty work myself. Feel honored.”   
  
He dug the knife deep and dropped the girl, striding away from the crime scene and into the snow, disappearing into the fog of midnight London. A free man. An awful man.   
  
Amy’s breath was clouds in the air. She could hear the click of his heels fading. When she was sure she was safe, she hoisted herself up and clasped her hand to her neck. He hadn’t hit a vein, for whatever reason. She knew he could’ve. Why didn’t he?  
  
She was bleeding badly, though. She dragged herself to the edge of the car park and scooped some of the snow that had gathered on the ledge. She pressed it against the wound, numbing enough of the pain so she could think a bit clearer.   
  
Her hands were numb as well, but the snow was already melted into red liquid, staining the concrete floor with red puddles that were already freezing over. She grabbed another handful and limped outside.   
  
She threw herself on top of the nearest person- a woman with a shopping bag, obviously doing some late Christmas shopping.   
  
Oh. It was Christmas Eve, wasn’t it? She’d lost track of time. So much had happened in the month she’d worked for Moriarty. Even though her comms had been silent almost the whole time, she hadn’t thought she was doing badly. Never would she had thought he had even suspected her.  
  
But apparently he knew everything.   
  
She should’ve known better. She’d failed. Oh no.   
  
The woman was saying something, but Amy couldn’t concentrate. Everything was changing colors. Flipping directions. She lurched forward, eyes wide and mind going white.   
  
_“Oh my God!”_ The woman screamed.   
  
“No, shh, he’ll hear you,” Amy gasped, or at least she tried. She fell to her knees, hand still pressed against her bleeding neck. Her scarf was stained red.   
  
“He’ll _hear_ you,” She repeated. Slowly. Blood muffled her words, and she leaned over and vomited. Everything was red. Red, red, red as the setting sun.   
  
The woman shrieked again, and there were people everywhere, and there was a sudden flash of pain as suddenly everyone’s boots suddenly became eye-level, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know it's confusing. But everything will work out. (Though you might not hear from Amy for a while). I hope everything will work out, at least. I'm still plotting is as I go along. :D 
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos, and if you really liked it, bookmark it. And comment. Please. I'll love you forever. 
> 
> I'll see you next week xxx
> 
> -Emma


End file.
